


Physical Therapy

by Reremouse (TheBelfry)



Series: At Ease [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Coming Out, Family, Frankness about disabilities, M/M, Puppies, Rainbows, and Riley's Uncle Elmer, family china, gender stereotypes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:32:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2088933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBelfry/pseuds/Reremouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to At Ease. Warnings: Gender stereotypes, family china, rainbows, puppies and Riley's Uncle Elmer</p>
            </blockquote>





	Physical Therapy

This time it's Riley wearing the 'I'm not gay - but my boyfriend is' tee shirt and a rainbow sock between his stump and the Cheetah's socket because he's the kind of guy who doesn't believe in doing things by half measures.

And Graham's wearing a look like he's tuned into the great cosmic joke and finds it really funny.

In short, they're just two relatively normal gay guys jogging along the winding path between the Venice boardwalk and the Venice beach dodging walkers and being dodged by bikes, rollerblades, skateboards, Segways trailing after a leader like ducklings and -

"Okay - not to sound like the old and really out of touch guy I'm pretty sure I am, but what the heck was that?"

Graham turns and jogs backwards a few steps. "Waveboard."

"Because there aren't enough ways to get from one place to another in Southern California yet?"

"Apparently not," Graham agrees.

"What's wrong with feet? I like feet. Or reasonable approximations thereof."

Graham shrugs and they slow. They stop before the drinking fountain they always stop at. The one at the edge of the sand and grass and concrete. "I guess it's not exciting enough." He turns the handle for Riley to drink, then bends over and takes a long drink himself.

Riley puts his hand on Graham's back before he straightens up and Graham leans into it. "Feet are reliable. That's exciting."

Graham backs up a step until his back is against Riley's chest and he leans there for a while before saying, "I never knew you were a foot fetishist."

"Just open-minded."

 

 

 

 

Showers never involved logistics before Riley lost a leg. It's one of those things a guy takes for granted, like standing on his own two feet and putting his pants on one leg at a time.

And it's not that the logistics are complicated. They're just kind of, well, emasculating sometimes.

A shower isn't the same sitting down.

Or at least, he's pretty sure it's not. The subject comes up one morning over breakfast with Graham, who looks thoughtful, eats a spoonful of Cheerios and says 'hmm.'

And who climbs into the shower with Riley the next morning and says, "Stand up."

"Is this an order?" Because they can joke about this now.

Joke and - other things that Riley likes a whole lot but that he's never going to be able to write home to mom about.

"Nope," Graham says. "Just a suggestion you'll be glad you followed."

"If this is going to involve candles and rose petals, you're doing it wrong," Riley tells him and braces himself on Graham's shoulder.

"No rose petals," Graham says. But that doesn't mean it's not romantic because what Graham has in mind is sitting down himself and easing Riley onto his lap.

Running soapy hands over Riley's skin and sucking up bruises over his collarbone.

Wrapping a slick hand around both of them and just rubbing, feeling, definitely, _definitely_ teasing. "You're a real tease, you know that?"

"Yup." Graham's hair is plastered to his forehead but Riley finds he can't look away from Graham's eyes. And doesn't actually want to.

"Okay."

He's kind of surprised speech is still on the table.

Graham pulls up and eases Riley onto his foot, then eases him down onto a slippery cock and licks the water from the hollow of Riley's throat and speech is definitely off the table for the moment.

All there's room for on this table is Graham in him and Graham's hands sweeping up and down his back. Graham's lips on his neck are pretty good too and - " _Oh_ yeah." Graham knowing all about Riley's thing for biting is all good in Riley's books too and he'd be hard pressed at this point to think of anything bad about having a chair in the shower.

In fact, when Graham eventually gets around to asking, "So, showers. Still emasculating?"

Riley answers, "I am _so_ renouncing patriarchal gender stereotypes."

"Good call."

Recovery. It's all about the adjustments.

 

 

Graham's good with his hands. And not just in the way Riley can't write home to his family in Iowa about.

Not that Riley knew that when he started obsessing quietly over Graham.

And not that it was a big revelation with choirs of angels.

It was more like a conversation a month into Graham spending every night in Riley's bed that went kind of like this:

"I need to stop in at work."

"You work?"

Graham sipped his coffee. "Surprise."

"You work." Riley couldn't wrap his mind around it but not for any of the obvious reasons and he was grateful that Graham didn't assume Riley's stalled out on the obvious reasons. "I didn't know you work."

"I don't work a lot," Graham said like an apology.

And Riley said, "What do you do?"

Graham makes things.

Riley's not always sure what the things are even when he's looking at them - and making them involves a blowtorch and welder's shield and anvils. And a thing that goes ' _thud_ ' and makes the concrete floor jump under his foot.

And a borrowed pickup truck with three guys riding in the bed to set up the sculptures when they get where they're going.

So Riley stands there looking up a twisted, blackened metal stretching into the sky in a way that kind of suggests Jack and the Beanstalk with a Mithrag demon in the middle of it and says, "It feels like there should be a dedication ceremony."

"It's just art," Graham says the way some people say 'it's just a hobby.'

But apparently it pays. Because a new deck set appears on their patio and Graham takes Riley out for dinner.

 

 

Graham also brings home a dog. Not right away. And not without clearing it with Riley first - at least in a vague and roundabout 'so - got any hard and fast rules on pets around here?' way.

It's a scruffy dog, somewhere between medium and big. Wiry. With big Gandalf eyebrows and a Fu Manchu and only one foreleg but that doesn't seem to slow him down.

"Shake," Graham tells the dog.

And instead of falling over, the dog sits up on his hind legs and shakes Graham's hand looking really proud of himself.

"I'm in love," Riley says. "I'm breaking up with you and taking the dog."

"And here I thought we could have a threesome," Graham says like they're discussing red or green enchilada sauce.

Because Graham - improbably - makes killer enchiladas.

"You're kidding, right?"

Graham just looks at him. The dog grins.

Riley caves.

"As long as you're kidding, he can stay."

Graham's burying his hands in fur and the dog blisses out against his thigh. "His name's Murray."

Riley doesn't ask.

"He came with a leash."

They go for a run in the park.

And when Riley's falling asleep that night in that really nice post-orgasmic place that's great to go to sleep in, the dog jumps up onto the end of the bed, circles around a few times and flops with a sigh.

"Um. Graham?"

Graham makes a mostly asleep humoring-you noise.

"You were kidding weren't you?" The dog meets Riley's eyes in the darkness. "About the threesome?"

Graham's hand fumbles its way to Riley's head and pats patronizingly.

"He's fixed. He'll probably bottom."

"That's not funny," Riley says to a man who's already asleep.

They have a dog.

 

 

Eventually, it becomes clear Graham's going to have to meet the family. In a family-meeting way because he's already met them in the buddy meeting way.

"I met your mom. She liked me."

"She thought you were hot."

"So you're saying she's wrong?"

"I'm saying she's my mom and _that's_ wrong."

So is having this conversation on an airplane headed to Iowa on the twenty-third of December. It occurs to Riley his timing has always been a little off when it comes to personal discussions. "She'll still like me," Graham assures him.

"I'm not sure she's going to like me anymore."

Graham gives him benign half smile number four. "Calm down and eat your pretzels."

Unfortunately, eating a bag of airline pretzels doesn't take long so it's not long before Riley's saying:

"I probably should have told her before we booked the flight. I should have told her before I came. I mean - wouldn't you think it's weird having your son show up for Christmas with an old army buddy and oh by the way, buddy isn't exactly the right word? And there's going to be explanations."

Graham raises his eyebrows. Apparently, Riley's using up the entire allotment of words for their seats all by himself.

"Sam."

Graham shrugs. "You're bisexual."

"That's not an explanation in Iowa."

"I'm hot."

Riley is temporarily derailed by the non-sequitur.

"The explanation's good enough for your mom."

Riley stares into space for a few seconds, trying hard not to imagine running that one by his family. "Maybe they'll blame it on California."

California always did have a lot to answer for in Iowa.

 

 

In the end they don't blame it on much of anything. Well - there's an awkward moment with Uncle Elmer who just wants to make sure Riley knows there's no shame in a war vet having performance difficulties. There's pills for that now. Different kinds, too. Pills for when you're ready and pills for when you want to be ready any time. Auntie Rhonda's been a happy woman and medical science is wonderful.

Uncle Elmer even recommends a doctor.

And Riley will be coping with all that through selective amnesia because the rest of the evening's full of family, food and geeky family games like pin the tail on the donkey and a sack race that Riley'd be embarrassed about if Graham hadn't been having so much fun.

He even throws the sack race for cousin Heidi, endearing himself to the entire maternal side of the family. And it's crazy that Graham seems to be better at this going home to the family farm thing than Riley's ever been.

"Didn't you grow up in Seattle?" Riley asks when he's sitting on the bed and loosening the socket, standing the leg against the night table and twisting around to find Graham undressing in front of the wardrobe. Kind of smiling.

"Renton, actually."

"Where the hell did you learn to be a farm boy?"

Graham slides naked into Riley's old double bed under the quilts of two grandmas, a great grandma and three aunts and pats the space next to him. "You don't have to grow up on a farm to eat and throw a sack race."

"Your appreciation for my hokey family traditions is seriously weird, okay?"

"Okay," Graham agrees and pats the bed again, filling the silence with: "Anyway, I like your family."

"Uncle Elmer's not family by blood, you know," Riley says, sliding under the covers because it's that or freeze in an Iowa farmhouse at this time of year.

"I like Uncle Elmer especially."

"Well good because I'm not sure _I_ like Uncle Elmer anymore."

Graham's lying on his back and it's getting to be something like natural to rest his head on Graham's shoulder and throw an arm around his waist. Riley's leg hangs off the end of the bed when he straightens it but at least there's only one set of toes to get cold anymore.

"He's just being helpful," Graham says and runs his hand over Riley's hair.

He's ready with another round of 'what's Uncle Elmer know anyway?' but - okay he has to ask. "You think I need help there?"

Graham keeps petting and Riley feels him shrug. "Not yet. But you never know. Thirty, forty years down the road..."

There's a comfortable silence.

"No commitment panic, then?" Graham asks after a while.

Riley examines it. "Apparently not."

"Cool."

More silence. More petting.

"But seriously, Graham. Uncle Elmer. That's kind of creepy, right? It's not just me?"

"Go to sleep, Ri."

 

 

Graham makes it all the way through the holiday and the pies and the hams and his very own quilt from Great Great Aunt Thelma.

"My family likes you better than me," Riley eventually accuses him when they're packing to go home.

"I'm just novel," Graham reassures him and labels a set of the family china 'fragile' for taking to UPS.

"They like you way better than me," Riley insists. "They never gave me the family china."

"They don't like me better than you," Graham disagrees. "They just like me better than Sam.

Which gives Riley a pause that lasts the rest of the way through packing. It's not until he's sitting on the bed adjusting the tension in his prosthetic that he concludes:"Who knew my family was so liberal."

Graham claps a hand on his shoulder. "You turned out okay." He picks up his suitcase - and Riley's too. He's out the door and in the hall when he tosses back over his shoulder: "Eventually."

"What?" Riley hops to the door and is left holding onto the edge and calling down the stairs. "What _eventually_? Graham!"

 

 

Three days after they get home, Riley notices the china sitting neatly in a hutch in their dining room. There's a plant sitting on top of it. "Since when do we own a hutch?"

"Three days," Graham says, not looking up from the wire he's bending on the table.

Riley stares the plant in the leaves; it's a weird plant but not noticeably demonic. "It's huge. Where've you been keeping it for three days?"

Graham looks up.

Looks at the hutch and the plant on the hutch.

Looks at Riley and points at the hutch.

"Right there."

"Seriously?"

"The plant is new yesterday," Graham concedes. "Hold this piece for me."

And Riley finds himself holding a bit of twisted wire looking at a big weird plant and a hutch full of the family china he'd swear wasn't there five minutes ago let alone three days. "Looks good there," he says eventually.

He does not say, _"Isn't it kind of gay to have a china hutch?"_ Because it is. But Riley's not a guy to ignore the facts and the facts are, the big gay ship is well away from shore on its maiden voyage. And it's growing on him.

The gay and the hutch.

"It's a nice hutch," he does say.

"Thanks. Friend of a friend made it."

For a gay china hutch, in fact, it is pretty manly.

So's the gayness. "Pass me the heat gun."

The breakfast table is littered in scrap metal and wire. "What are you making?" Because Graham's somethings only look like something to Riley when they're done.

"Mobile for the breakfast nook."

Okay, sort of manly.


End file.
